


between the salt and wind

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is traveling to his late father's offices when his ship is taken by pirates, and he learns the truth behind his father's business in trade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	between the salt and wind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [liberteegalitehomosexualite](http://liberteegalitehomosexualite.tumblr.com/)'s prompt of a pirate AU.

The first time any of the pirates speak to Courfeyrac directly, it's a man with brown skin and kind eyes. He offers Courfeyrac a blanket made of coarse material and an apologetic smile. 

"You're shaking."

It has little to do with the cold, salty wind but Courfeyrac smiles appreciatively all the same as the blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. "Thank you."

"I'm going to have to ask for pistol," the pirate says quietly, with the same apologetic smile, as if he's _sorry_ for the fact that he can tell that Courfeyrac has a weapon in the hidden pocket of his coat. He isn't even sure if his tailor was lying about how inconspicuous it would be, or if the pirate's just keener than most. The pirate reaches his hand out, waiting. "I know you're not going to use it, but I need to take it anyway."

"I could use it, if I wanted to," Courfeyrac says, his words belied by the way his voice trembles.

The pirate smiles gently and Courfeyrac wonders if this is how he captures all of his prisoners, disarming them with kindness instead of by intimidating them. 

He pulls his pistol out and hands it over. "Be careful with it, please? It was a gift, from my late father."

The pirate's eyes go wide. "Baron de Courfeyrac is dead?"

Courfeyrac is about to reply, asking how the pirate knows his father but before he can, one of the other men speaks up. He's part of the ship's original crew—the navigator, Courfeyrac remembers—and is currently tied up to the ship's mast. 

"What's this? You've got a brown-skinned bastard walking free in your crew?"

The pirate goes very still for a moment, before he gives Courfeyrac a warm smile. "Hold that thought for a moment."

He gets up and walks over to the navigator, turning Courfeyrac's pistol around in his hand. He uses the handle to club the man across the face with a loud crack, making him slump in his bonds. 

"Would anybody else like to question my status in the crew?" he asks loudly, looking around at the rest of the prisoners, and is met with terrified silence. The gentle smile is back, just as before. Courfeyrac isn't sure whether there's an edge to it that wasn't there before, or if it's just because he knows how deceiving it can be now. "Good."

"I hope you weren't particularly attached to him," he says conversationally, returning to where Courfeyrac is sitting.

"They were all my father's men," Courfeyrac replies, surprised that his voice is this even when he's so terrified. "They were taking me to his offices overseas—apparently he traded goods…"

The pirate sighs quietly. "You have no idea, do you? Enjolras! Come over here!"

The man who walks over is clearly captain among the pirates, not in the way he dresses but simply by the way he holds himself. He's shorter than the other—similar to Courfeyrac in height—but casts an intimidating figure all the same, openly carrying a rapier and two pistols, most likely carrying more weapons out of sight.

"Combeferre. I said that all of the prisoners were to be tied up. Why have you missed this one?"

"He didn't need to be," Combeferre replies, looking unconcerned about not following his captain's orders. "This is Baron de Courfeyrac's son. Apparently, the Baron is dead."

Enjolras frowns down at Courfeyrac before turning on his heel. "In my quarters."

"Feuilly," Combeferre calls, to one of the other members of the crew. "You're in command. If the prisoners decide not to take us seriously, feel free to pitch them overboard."

"Aye," Feuilly replies with a lazy salute and a wicked grin. His skin isn't as dark as Combeferre's, but the meaning is clear all the same.

"Come with me," Combeferre says, gently taking Courfeyrac by the arm and guiding him over to where the two ships are tied together with grappling hooks. There are boarding planks creating a walkway between the two and when Courfeyrac hesitates, Combeferre's grip on him tightens. "It's alright. I've got you."

"You're being very nice to me," Courfeyrac mutters, in an effort to distract himself from the fear of toppling off the boards and into the water underneath, despite Combeferre's firm grip and sure steps. "You haven't killed any of my men—you're nothing like what I've heard pirates to be."

Combeferre snorts quietly. "Are we not counting the man who commented on my skin?"

"We're not," Courfeyrac decides. "He should have known better to make such a trivial judgement, or to provoke you when he was a prisoner."

This earns him a startled laugh from Combeferre, and the hand on his arm tightens by a small fraction. "Oh."

It's a soft sound, and perhaps Combeferre didn't intend for it to escape his lips, but it's awed, with an undertone of wariness. Courfeyrac understands the feeling all too well.

—«·»—

Enjolras is already sitting behind his large desk when they reach his quarters, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. Courfeyrac hovers by the door as Combeferre shuts it behind them, but then Combeferre's hand is on his arm again, guiding him over to the chair opposite to Enjolras.

"Your father," Enjolras begins, "has been an enemy of ours for a long time, now. The reason we attacked your ship in the first place is because we recognised it as his. He's evaded us for years and we thought we'd finally caught him, but…"

"You're a month too late," Courfeyrac says, and decides he can be forgiven for his cold tone when talking to a man who is clearly happy to hear of his father's death. "Terribly sorry for your missed opportunity."

Combeferre makes a low, soothing noise from behind Courfeyrac. It might be for his benefit, or it might be for Enjolras, Courfeyrac can't quite tell. He turns anyway, and sees that Combeferre is frowning, looking away from them both.

"There's a good reason that we were at odds with your father," Combeferre tells him. "You mentioned that he had some business in trade. I have a feeling that you aren't aware of _what_ he trades."

Courfeyrac's heart sinks and he has the sudden feeling that he doesn't want to know, but he waits until Combeferre looks over at him, and holds his gaze. "Tell me."

"He was a slave trader," Combeferre says without preamble. Somewhere beneath the shock, Courfeyrac supposes that there's no easy way to say it. "When he tired of politics, he would sell people to the highest bidder. We're in the business of liberating slaves, ourselves, so we never quite saw eye to eye."

"Oh," Courfeyrac whispers, horrified. Better he find out like this, rather than reaching his father's offices and seeing it for himself. "He never made mention of it. He knew that the concept itself did not sit well with me. Do you think that the rest of my ship's crew knew? The navigator must have known, he sailed with my father all the time. To think I've been travelling and associating with people who not only condone slavery but _facilitate_ it…"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Combeferre says softly, and sounds like he means it, "but I can't bring myself to mourn his passing."

"I understand," Courfeyrac replies, nodding. "I… don't know how to feel, myself. I don't know what to do. I won't continue his work—I refuse to. Is there any way that I could even _begin_ to undo the damage he's done?"

Combeferre hums in thought. "There is one thing I can think of…"

"Combeferre," Enjolras says, clearly understanding something that Courfeyrac doesn't. "No. Not like this. Not now. It's unfair on him."

"Master de Courfeyrac would have access to information about slave trade routes," Combeferre replies, clearly choosing his wording for Courfeyrac's benefit.

"Just Courfeyrac, please. I've always said that _de Courfeyrac_ was my father and I don't think I want that association right now."

"Courfeyrac could get us the information we need," Combeferre continues. "Assuming that none of the other crew members can provide it themselves. I'm sure that between Bahorel and Feuilly, we'll have the truth beaten out of them soon enough."

"You're going to do _what_ with the crew?" Courfeyrac asks, wide-eyed.

"We'll interrogate them," Combeferre replies. "We won't use force unless we need to."

"You're probably best off asking them yourself, then," Courfeyrac says with a wan smile. "I'm sure they're terrified of you."

"Are you?" Combeferre asks, and actually looks _concerned_ by the possibility.

"I know I should be," Courfeyrac says, because he's already learned his lesson about kind people with gentle smiles and soft voices, their true selves hidden away behind countless layers. Except Combeferre doesn't hide: he's equal parts gentle and brutal, and takes no pains to hide this fact. "I would be, if I knew what was good for me."

Enjolras makes an agitated sound, resting his head against the back of his chair. "Courfeyrac, would you please wait outside while I speak with my quarter master?"

Courfeyrac nods, standing up and walking to the door. Even with the door shut, he can hear Enjolras say, "I'm not blind, Combeferre. You're attracted to him. I'm not encouraging this, even if he's attracted to you in return."

" _Enjolras_ ," Combeferre sounds embarrassed. "The door is not that thick. He'll hear us."

"Oh, I'm counting on it. If he doesn't have the sense to be eavesdropping right now, then he has no place in our crew. You want him to join, I know that, but I just want to make sure that it's for the right reasons."

"Where else would he go?" Combeferre asks. "I doubt that he could return to his life and refuse to continue his father's side business without repercussions. This way works. As far as anyone needs to know, he set out to sea in his father's ship and neither the ship nor crew were ever heard from again. He can be assumed dead. He can start a new life—"

"On the sea? As a pirate?" Enjolras interrupts. "Does he _want_ that, Combeferre? What if he doesn't? What if he changes his mind later, only to discover that it's too late? Our work is neither easy nor safe."

"It's his decision in the end," Combeferre says calmly. "He's the one who decides whether to stay or leave. We won't even know our next step until we've interrogated the rest of the crew. I shouldn't have killed that man—"

"I heard what he said," Enjolras replies. "If you didn't kill him, then I would have. Or Feuilly. Or Bahorel, for that matter. We'll get our answers without him."

Combeferre sighs heavily. "Yes we will."

"And Combeferre? You and Courfeyrac… I would prefer if you waited until we've dealt with de Courfeyrac's business partners before you address how serious you are about… whatever this is. I can't have you distracted."

"Oh. Not like you were, back when you and Grantaire first—"

"That is all," Enjolras cuts him off, sounding embarrassed, and Courfeyrac is immediately curious. "Now, we'll give Courfeyrac time to decide what he wants to do, if he needs it. I _do_ hope you are eavesdropping, out there. I meant what I said earlier, about having no place on the crew if you're not."

"I heard everything," Courfeyrac says in reply, poking his head through the door once again. He avoids looking at Combeferre, because he knows that it will only distract him now, and speaks directly to Enjolras. "Combeferre is right, I have no real options beyond joining your crew, but even if I did, I know that I want to stay. I want to help you liberate slaves. I appreciate that you were going to give me time to decide, though." 

Enjolras nods. "Welcome to the _Musain_."

"Thank you," Courfeyrac beams. "…Am I allowed to ask who Grantaire is?"

—«·»—

Grantaire, Courfeyrac soon learns, is a fellow crew member. He's a multi-talented man who gets along with everyone easily and is always quick with a smile and a story. He's also Enjolras' lover and while it is by no means a secret among the crew, they try not to acknowledge it when they're at work on the deck. Still, Courfeyrac thinks that he catches them exchanging fond glances every now and then, and it makes him smile.

Combeferre is put in charge of making sure that Courfeyrac adjusts to being part of the crew, and it means that they spend a lot of time together. They're a well-matched pair, quick to learn each other's habits and how to read each other. They think alike and before long, they're communicating in half-sentences, knowing that the other will understand. Combeferre is well-liked among the crew and is kind of everyone the way he was kind to Courfeyrac when they first met. It's clear that he cares about people and Courfeyrac likes him more for this fact. They become good friends and by extension, Courfeyrac also grows close to Enjolras. The rest of the crew accepts him easily and it might not be as comfortable as the life that he once had, but he knows that he wouldn't trade it for the world.

He's the one who makes the decision to burn his old ship, once they get the information they need about Baron de Courfeyrac's trade routes out of the captain. They don't have the men to sail two ships and the Baron's ship has a distinctive shape that will give them away to slave traders. It's satisfying to watch it burn, taking Courfeyrac's old life with it. He doesn't know where the rest of the ship's crew is and he doesn't ask. Combeferre is kind enough not to tell him.

From the information they've gotten from the captain, there are two slave ships that are scheduled to sail soon and between Combeferre and Enjolras, they map out the course the ships will take, so they can find the best place to stop them.

"You're going to take on two ships at once?" Courfeyrac asks in disbelief, looking at the map in the captain's quarters.

"At different points in their journey," Enjolras replies, touching his index finger to the map to indicate the port they leave from. "They'll be sailing in two different directions at first, to avoid us. Attacking these ships too forcefully means that we might sink them, which is the last thing we want to do. Ideally, we'd take the ships, kill the crew and liberate the slaves, setting them for a course towards one of the ports that the navy doesn't know about. They'll be free there."

"Ideally," Combeferre echoes, "but it doesn't always go according to plan. The slaves are chained down and if the ship sinks, they sink first. We need o make sure that we make our attack somewhere with islands nearby. If we need to deploy our own longboats to rescue people, we will. It's going to mean that our ship will be more crowded for a while, until we can get them to one of the free ports, but we have extra stores for this reason."

Courfeyrac nods. "Okay. That makes sense."

They have three days before the ships set sail. Courfeyrac has no idea what to expect and Combeferre notices, approaching him that night when they're both on the deck.

"It's alright to be nervous," he murmurs, leaning against the side of the ship. "We always are, leading up to one of these attacks. The stakes are always incredibly high and there are more lives at risk than just our own. You just get better at hiding it over time."

Courfeyrac laughs quietly. "You're hiding it incredibly well, in that case."

Combeferre smiles, looking down at his hands. "Plenty of practice, I assure you."

"That day you took the ship and decided to keep me," Courfeyrac speaks up, "you were gentle with me from the very beginning. Unthreatening, or as much as you could be, considering the circumstances. Why was that?"

"We attacked your ship for a reason," Combeferre replies. "We thought you father would be on it. The rest of the crew knew exactly why they were being attacked and they fought back, but you looked lost. You had a pistol on your belt and several other weapons within reach and you still did nothing. I knew then that you had no idea. I cannot forgive people who know the harm they are causing. I thought that once you knew…"

"I would not want to continue my father's work," Courfeyrac concludes. "And I didn't."

"And I knew that there was only one easy option for you from there," Combeferre continues. "I thought that you might want to help up. I didn't _keep_ you, Courfeyrac. I have no ownership over you to do so. But I hoped you would want to stay. I'm glad that you did."

"You thought all of that while you were taking over the ship?" Courfeyrac asks, smiling. 

Combeferre shrugs. "I think on my feet. It's one of the reasons I'm so useful to Enjolras."

"You saved me," Courfeyrac tells him. "From a life I wouldn't have wanted. From a guilt that I wouldn't have been able to bear. I didn't belong on the path my father chose for me."

"Not at all," Combeferre shakes his head. "You belong here. With us."

"With you," Courfeyrac says quietly.

Combeferre's smile is different now, tentative and shy. "If that's what you want."

"It is," Courfeyrac tells him, without a trace of doubt. "I want this. I want you."

With a quiet, relieved sigh, Combeferre shifts closer to Courfeyrac. He moves slowly enough to give Courfeyrac time to turn to meet him, for their arms to come around each other just before their lips meet in a firm kiss. They stay that way for a long moment, until Courfeyrac finally pulls away.

"…Didn't Enjolras say to wait until after our attack on the slave ships?"

Combeferre snorts quietly and presses a kiss to Courfeyrac's forehead. "I've had to put up with him and Grantaire for the longest time. I don't care what he says, I think I'm allowed to have this. He might be our captain, but this has nothing to do with him. This is between us, and as long as we want this, nothing else matters. And I know I do."

"Yes," Courfeyrac agrees, kissing Combeferre again. "So do I."


End file.
